To Thank a Mockingbird
by horseridersierra195
Summary: All Scout wants to do is to talk to Boo, but more importantly thank him for his help.  How will she do that when he never leaves the house? One shot.


**A/N- This is a very short story a while ago for extra credit for school. Basically we had to write any sort of prose that had to do with To Kill a Mockingbird with under 1,500 words for a contest that was being held for the book's 50th anniversary or something of that nature. So I wrote this and turned it in not very proud of it, but my teacher would give us credit just for entering, so to me winning didn't quite matter. Surprisingly, I ended up winning first place in that contest. I'm still not very proud of this, but hopefully you readers will get some enjoyment out of it(: **

****Peace! Laugh! Love! Enjoy! :)****

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><p>To Thank a Mockingbird<p>

I've only been to the cemetery in Maycomb County a couple of times. I came a few times to visit my mom on her birthday and once with Jem to visit Mrs. Dubose, but I never felt as if I've lost something like he did. Until now. Now, as I stared at the newly planted headstone, I couldn't help but feel my stomach knot up and a lump form on my throat. A strange emptiness started in my chest and slowly spread throughout the rest of my body. It was like my heart was filled with this sorrow and it pumped it through my arteries and veins until every part of me felt numb. A single, cold tear rolled down my cheek as my eyes scanned the gray rock and I found the name of its owner. Arthur Radley.

Years ago, after the whole Bob Ewell attack was forgotten about and Jem's arm healed, everything seemed like it was going to be normal again. And in a way it was. Atticus continued to be a fair lawyer, Jem and I continued going to school, Aunt Alexandra went back to live with her husband and Francis, and Miss Maudie watered her flowers all day. Everything was average, except for me. I matured a great deal in that short period of time. I still wouldn't wear a skirt or dress unless it was absolutely necessary, but I did change a lot. I didn't fight anymore. I didn't really care about a person's family or how they look, because I knew that it was what a person had on the inside that truly counts. And I gained a deeper understanding of everything, like life and love.

But that didn't keep me from asking questions, especially about Boo. I would spend a good deal of my free time just asking myself all the questions about Boo Radley I still had. Why did he stay in solitude? What did he do to keep himself entertained when Jem and I started getting to old and busy to play outside? Why did he save us from Mr. Ewell, even though he could've hurt himself? I even tried to prepare what I would say to him if I ever saw him again.

Of course I never did. There was no sign that he was even still in the house. It was always quiet and still. The only sign that there was life in it was when Mr. Nathan Radley entered and left the house.

One day I was walking home alone, because Jem was busy playing football, and I stopped to stare at the house. I wanted so badly to knock on the door. Just to see what would happen. As I just stood there, my mind began to change. I no longer wanted to interrogate Boo with useless questions. Instead, I wanted to thank him for everything he's done for my family. I took a step toward the house. Then a couple more until I passed the gate. That's when Atticus's voice, my new voice of reason, sounded in my head.

_Leave the man alone. If he wants to come out, he'll come out, _it whispered.

I knew it was true. Obviously he didn't want people to see him. But that didn't stop the new burning passion I had inside. I needed to thank him somehow. So I spent my free time no longer asking unanswerable questions, but trying to find a new way of communicating with Boo, without having to talk to him face to face. I thought about the knothole, but Mr. Nathan plugged the only one I knew of up, so that idea was out. I also thought of writing a letter and putting it in the mailbox or laying it on the window sill, but then there was no real guarantee Boo would get it. My mind kept creating crazy ideas and schemes even more complicated than these just to be knocked down by the same daunting reason. There was no way of really knowing that my thanks got to him. After a while, my brain went as dry as the well in a summer drought and I couldn't think of anything else to do. So I just waited for something to happen.

That "something" didn't happen until a few years later. While walking home from town in the evening, I saw Dr. Reynolds exit the Radley house.

"Hey, doctor. How's it going?" I asked, curiosity burning inside of me.

"Everything is good, Jean Louise," He answered.

"Somethin' wrong with Mr. Nathan?" I questioned.

"No, it's Mr. Arthur. He caught a nasty bug and I'm just checking up on him," He said. "Now, Ms. Jean Louise, I better get back home and so should you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I sighed and continued home.

Dr. Reynolds visited the Radley house twice the next week, and about 4 times the week after that. And on the next Tuesday, a car came and confirmed one of my fears. A horrible sickness has caused my mockingbird to fall.

"Scout, let's go." My father said in his authoritative voice.

"Can I just have another moment please? You guys can head to the car, I'll catch up." I sighed, taking in a shaky breath.

"Okay." Atticus nodded and turned around. Before leaving, Jem gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze and his mouth twisted into a slightly reassuring smile, even though I knew he was feeling the same thing I was deep inside.

I knelt down on the newly laid dirt, which was still loose from the recent burial. I reached into my pocket and pulled out some of the treasures Jem and I kept in a box all these years, a pocket watch that doesn't tick, an old spelling bee medal, and 2 Indian-heads. Then I stuck my hand into my other pocket and produced a crumpled piece of paper. I set it on top of the gifts I was returning and began to dig a hole deep enough that it would protect them from harm for a bit, but shallow enough so I didn't get myself too dirty in the process. I set Boo's treasures in the hole and I ironed the shred of paper with my hands so the words I wrote on it became readable. I set it carefully on top of the items and proceeded to cover them with the soft earth I had just uprooted. Once I was satisfied with my work, I stood up, bid my last farewell to the man that saved my life and walked toward the direction we left the car.

"So, what did you write on that paper?" I jumped and turned to see Jem leaning on a tree not far from where Boo's grave was.

"Don't scare me like that, Jem! I thought you were with Atticus," I almost yelled.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Sorry. What was on that paper, Scout?" He repeated.

"Thank you…" I sighed. "Thank you for everything."


End file.
